


Suckerpunch

by connorstoll (quietrook)



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1904247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietrook/pseuds/connorstoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason Grace is driving his soon-to-be-wife's shitty blue Hybrid across the country when, predictably, it breaks down.  Less predictably and more inconveniently, he breaks down in the middle of nowhere in the middle of Texas. Such is the way he encounters Leo Valdez, mechanic extraordinaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All the Right Friends

Texas in the summer is not just hot, not just sweltering heat. It is the very essence of melting. A solid object left outside for a few minutes will end up as a puddle of goo, as I just watched my previously edible hamburger do while on the phone (at least, while attempting to be on the phone). Sighing, I stand up and throw the wrapper away, goo and all, before slipping back into the gas station. My electric blue hybrid (which turned out to be a worthless piece of junk just like I told Piper it would) sits a few miles down the road. The fact that I even managed to walk this far without my muscles giving out in the blistering heat is surprising. It broke down about five miles back, by my estimate, though I'm not exactly the best with distances. My shirt and I are one at this point, and the cool air of the convenience store is a relief. The man behind the counter looks up at me as I walk back in.

 

"Did the number work?"

 

"My phone doesn't have enough battery power." Not that I expect there to be much of a cell phone signal in Middle of Nowhere, Texas, anyway. "Is there a phone here I can use?"

 

I almost don't ask as, looking around the run down shop, I don't think there's much in the way of technology. I haven't seen a large town in a while, and I've been Google mapping this place with all the battery I had left and it doesn't look like there's a large town in my near future. Not that I believe in that kind of stuff, but my horoscope this morning did say that a plan would unexpectedly fall through and I'd have to rise above it.

 

"There's a phone by the restroom," the cashier replies and continues reading the beat up paperback novel he has in his hand. I try to read the fading title, but it's apparently in Spanish. At least, I think it's in Spanish, anyway; it's really hard to tell.

 

I nod my appreciation as I head back. It's one of those older phones that you don't see so much of anymore, with the curlicue wire attaching to the wall. I can't stop from wondering how well it works, which is ridiculous; I've used these before. I guess sometimes you just don't realize how much technology really changes you.

 

I glance at the receipt the guy wrote the number on, and dial carefully. There's some kind of stain on the number 7 that looks suspiciously like old gum and I hesitate before I punch it. My finger is sticky... or is it just in my head? The phone rings several times and I almost hang up in defeat before I hear the click signify that someone has picked up on the other end.

 

"H-hello?" A bright voice with a slight accent says. "Sorry, I was fixing something and then I forgot where I set my phone down... Oh, wait, crap, sorry, let me start over: you have reached Leo Valdez of Valdez Auto Maintenance, what can I do you for?" It sounded like this guy - Leo Valdez - is grinning on the other end, and I'm a little surprised by his nonchalance. How can someone that lives in this kind of temperature all the time be so laid back? How can someone be so cheerful, for that matter?

 

"Hello," I say awkwardly, realizing I haven't thought out exactly what I'm going to tell this guy yet. "My, uh, my car broke down and I was told you're the man for the job?" It sounds more like a question than I mean it to, but I'm not as prepared as I'd like to be. I don't make it a habit of breaking down in strange locations, but then again I don't make it a habit to drive my fiancee's car across the country. Either way, this is a new situation for me.

 

"Yeah! I am definitely your man," the overly animated voice responds, and I lean against the wall, trying to ignore the weird, probably nicotine stains on the paint. "If you tell me where you're at, I can come by and look at your car, or something."

 

... _Or something_? I try not to over think it. I'm already a little freaked out as it is, what with breaking down in the middle of nowhere, and all.

 

"That'd be great," I tell him. "I'm at the Texaco station about, I think, 20 minutes off of 150?"

 

There's a low whistle from his end.

 

"You broke down that far out?"

 

"I actually broke down farther back," I say, almost flatly. "I walked here. I'm kind of worried about the car, actually; half of my stuff is attached to it and I'm guessing it's only like a quarter now."

 

If there was even anyone around to steal from me, that is. The way this area of Texas looked, I could probably leave it there for a month and all my stuff would still be there. At least it got the mechanic's attention.

 

"Whoa, hey, okay-- I'm on my way, man." He hangs up abruptly, and I wonder if maybe I exaggerated a bit too much. Or maybe I didn't exaggerate at all - maybe there actually were people around to steal my stuff.

 

I don't want to think about that, actually. I consider calling Piper, and then I remember that my phone is dead and I don't have her new number memorized so instead, I grab a Coke and take it up to the counter. Paperback guy looks up at me again.

 

"Did you get through?"

 

"Yeah; help's on the way. Can I get this Coke?"

 

He rings it up and I add a pack of oatmeal cookies to the drink; all that walking's bound to make a man hungry, and it's not like a convenience store has a lot of options. When I go to pay, I make the unfortunate realization that I only have twenty dollars in my wallet. Twenty dollars and no cards. That's not a problem right now, but it could be very very soon. I push that thought to the back of my mind and pay for my items, $5.20 in total. That's $14.80 left...no, I can't think like that. I'll be in New York within the week. It'll be fine.

 

I lean against the glass wall that forms the entrance of the gas station and wait for someone to show up. I don't know who I'm looking for, but I don't imagine that many people will come through. I start to think I've seriously underestimated the distance between this gas station and the town when the sun is starting to set, half the oatmeal cookies are gone, and I'm down to maybe five sips of Coke. That's when an old BMW pulls into the gas station and honks its horn twice. Is that some sort of signal? A skinny Hispanic that looks like he just turned eighteen yesterday hops out of the driver's side and, leaving the car running, jogs into the store. He glances at me and grins impishly. It looks like an expression he makes a lot.

 

"You the unlucky schmuck?" He asks, and I notice his clothes are covered in what looks like oil.

 

"Jason Grace," I say by way of answer, holding out a hand for him to shake. He looks at it a moment, like he isn't used to shaking hands, and then grabs it. His hands are rough and warm, and his handshake is strong, if a little too enthusiastic.

 

"Leo Valdez, mechanic extraordinaire." There's the grin, again. "Are you ready to leave? We should probably get to your car before it's, you know, night."

 

"I-- yeah," I say, and he's almost immediately out of the store and in his car, waiting. I grab what remains of my food items and head out.

 

The passenger door is unlocked and I think 'Wow, two door cars are really inconvenient,' as I slide inside. It's hot -- does he have something against air conditioning? I pull my collar out from my shirt and he smirks as he pulls out of the gas station's poor excuse for a parking lot.

 

"Sorry; the AC broke the other day and I'm way too busy to fix something like that. Where's your car?"

 

"That way," I say, pointing. I can't help noticing that his fingers are constantly drumming on the steering wheel, and licking lips constantly. I wonder if he smokes.

 

As we drive off down the stretch of dusty asphalt, the sun is slowly setting and the silence grows louder. I don't know about him, but I don't do very well with nothing to do and no background noise, so I ask, "Can we listen to music or something?"

 

"Oh, yeah, sorry, just a second--" He fiddles with the radio with one hand and I can't help but feel nervous, with his other hand only lightly on the wheel. I can't help it; I drive exactly the way you're taught to, both hands firm on the wheel and stopping if you want to do something in your car besides drive. He turns on the radio and presses one of the numbered buttons, and a moment later staticy pop music is spilling through the speakers.

 

He looks over at me and shrugs.

 

"That's the best signal we're gonna get."

 

"It's fine," I tell him, because almost anything is better than silence. I don't know this song, but the one that comes on after it makes me smile a little despite the circumstances. I can feel him look over here.

 

"You know this one?"

 

"Yeah," I say, and hum to the vocals. It's OneRepublic, a song off of their second album. He reaches over again and I try not to flinch as he turns the volume dial up. It's louder than I personally want it to be, but it's his car, so I'm not going to say anything about it. Instead I just close my eyes and hum. The song ends too quickly, replaced by something that sounds like it's played through a garbage disposal. I make a face, he makes a face, and the station is quickly changed to some country song.

 

About ten minutes later, he taps my shoulder and says, "Hey, is that it?"

 

I open my eyes, sit up, and squint into the setting sun. Sure enough, there it is -- a blue hybrid with a small trailer attached. It looks so unfriendly and useless right now.  I suddenly feel very embarrassed for driving it.

 

"Yeah, that's... that's it," I mutter, and hop out of the car as soon as he pulls to a stop.

 

"Hey, wait a second!" He calls, and I look back. He's holding up what I think are jumper cables. I nod and step back; like I know a thing about cars. I'd rather let the mechanic do the work. I try not to think about what he said earlier: _or something_.

 

Twenty minutes later, though, my car is still broken down and I have a little more doubt for this guy. He rubs the back of his neck and turns to me.

 

"We'll have to tow it. That could take a while."

 

"Great," I say and shake my head. "And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

 

"Stay in town," he shrugs. "Sorry, man, I don't know what else to tell you." He climbs back into the car and I follow after taking a long look at the hybrid. I guess I should really call Piper and let her know...

 

As I settle back into the car and he settles back into his slightly terrifying method of driving, I ask, "You don't happen to have a car charger for a cell phone, do you?"

 

"In the glovebox. For an Android, anyway. If you have an iPhone then I can't really help you there."

 

I have an iPhone. Of course. I mean, it'll be fine as long as I can get some necessary supplies out of the car. I tell him thanks, anyway.

 

The whole ride back to town was spent in quiet contemplation as he switched from station to station, looking for something. We ended up back where we started: pop. More specifically, Timber. He was singing along and I couldn't help but give him a look.

 

"What?" He asked defensively. "I like Ke$ha."

 

"I didn't say anything."

 

"Yeah, but it was in the look. I didn't say anything when you were over there jammin out to All the Right Moves, did I?"

 

"I-- I wasnt--" I stop, embarrassed. I was and I can't deny it, so I just shrug and look out the window. It's dark now, and you can see lights in the distance - the gas station, and then a while after, the town.

 

Some time after the gas station but before the town another OneRepublic song plays (Lose Myself) and even as I restrain myself from singing, he starts to. He grins at the undoubtedly questioning look on my face and sings at me.

 

"You can feel the lines start to tremble, washing what you know out to sea, yeah," he sings, and his voice is actually pretty melodious. It's the kind of singing that makes you want to sing, too, so I do.

 

"You can see the light out your window tonight," I add softly and he grins, giving me a thumbs up. I grin back and I don't know who turns the music up this time - me or him - but suddenly we're both singing at the top of our lungs and we can still barely hear our own voices.

 

"If I lose myself tonight, it'll be by your side. If I lose myself tonight, oh, oh! If I lose myself tonight, it'll be you and I; if I lose myself tonight, ooh!" We both laugh as the music takes over, and I feel a lot more comfortable now than I did a few moments ago. We belt out the rest of the song and continue our part-singing, part-screaming, and part-yodeling through Stay, All of Me, Roar, and Super Bass before something we both dislike comes on. He turns the music down about the same time we get into the town.

 

"It's bigger than I thought it was," I find myself saying, and I hear a small laugh.

 

"It's not much but we have a McDonald's and WiFi and everything," he assures me. "If you look to your left you can see that there's an outlet mall and the motel I recommend staying at. You don't want the other one," he adds, making a face.

 

"Why?"

 

"Just trust me."

 

"Well, it actually doesn't matter." I lean my head against the window and look at the faded buildings. "I don't have any money."

 

He doesn't ask me why. Instead, he says, "I have a couch. I guess if you're broke you can stay with me and work off the payments."

 

I'm surprised at his kindness. Almost embarrassed, even. I don't know that I would offer my couch to some guy I'd just met -- but then again, once you get comfortable enough to parade your tone deaf voice it doesn't matter anymore.

 

"I don't know anything about cars," I tell him, trying to cover my gratitude and the fact that I'm a little flustered by his offer.

 

"I'll find something for you to do."

 

"...thanks, man."

 

He doesn't look at me this time, but the corner of his mouth curls up. It's only a minute or so later that he stops in front of a two story building. It looks like there's a shop on the bottom and an apartment on the top. There's a pretty sizeable garage attached to the building and a sign out front that says Valdez Auto Maintenance. I guess this is the place.

 

As he lets me in, he apologizes.

 

"Sorry, it's kind of a mess."

 

And it kind of is. There are parts and tools and tires and things I've never really known the use of everywhere. I don't know what most of this stuff is, let alone what it's used for. That's something Piper would probably know. I follow him up the creaky stairs and wait as patiently as I can manage, but the truth is that I'm incredibly tired. I drove straight here from San Francisco without stopping once, so I'm dead on my feet. I drink the last bit of my Coke and then I've blinked and I'm inside his apartment.I don't hesitate before I crash right into the couch.

 

"I'm gonna go ahead and call the towing company, but it'll at the earliest be tomorrow, alright?"

 

Oh. Right, he's talking to me. I should say something to him. I should respond.

 

"Mmn," I mumble, and he laughs.

 

"Okay. Just sleep. That's cool too." He gets on the phone then and I try to follow the conversation but it's very fast and very not in English and I give up all too quickly.

 

The last thing I can remember thinking is that I really wish I'd learned how to say something in Spanish other than "Me llamo es..."


	2. Fear of the Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason wakes up in Texas, and momentarily forgets where he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ?? this is a really long chapter  
>  and i think i kind of hate this story  
> or at least the way i'm writing it  
> u gHgh  
> and i'm kind of worried that they're out of character

I wake up and I’m freezing. The mornings in California can be like that sometimes, so it isn’t surprising, and it doesn’t help that Piper always steals the covers during the night. I instinctively roll over to wiggle into the curve of Piper’s body -- she’s warm all the time, like there’s lava inside of her -- and that’s when I fall off of the couch. There’s a heavy thud and then an after thud as my head hits the edge of the coffee table. The pain explodes in my head like a supernova and I almost consider breaking my personal ban on swearing. Almost, but not completely.

I sit up and groggily take in my surroundings: the old and worn leather couch; the holey quilt half on my legs and half on the cushion; the stained mahogany coffee table cluttered with coffee cups that are probably a year old and auto magazines that are probably years older. I forgot that I’m not in San Francisco anymore. I lean my head against the table, yawning as I try to ignore the throbbing where my cranium became one with the wood. It’s hot and it’s sticky and my clothes are stuck to my body after sleeping in them all night, and my stomach is growling at that loud and obnoxious smell wafting in from somewhere -- wait. Actually, what is that?

I struggle to my feet, my head slowing its maniacal ferris wheel routine, and blink a few times. Light is coming in from a window on my left and you can see all the dust particles in the air. Straight ahead is a small kitchen, where a skinny Hispanic is frying something very greasy (or I assume, from the popping sounds) on the stove. He flips the pan up, and a yellow disc does a perfect toss in the air, landing with a very solid slap that erupts into sizzling. The amazing, wonderful smell of egg assaults my nose and I am lumbering towards the food without even realizing it. I only notice when I’m standing by the stove and he looks up at me with his token grin.

“G’morning, Grace. Hungry?” He shakes the pan a little as he speaks, not even watching it, and I can tell that it’s more than just the way he drives and cooks and speaks: Leo Valdez is just a fidgety person by nature.

“God, yes,” I say, and then shake my head as he pitched the beautiful, gorgeous perfect slab of egg onto a cracked, blue porcelain plate. “I-- sorry, yes, please; my manners aren’t really the best when I wake up. I’m not too much of a morning person.”

He winks as he hands the plate and a fork to me. It’s now that I notice that he’s at least half a foot shorter than me, and I rub the back of my neck before I take the food.

“It’s all good, Grace. We run a very casual establishment ‘round these parts.”

I notice two things about the way he’s speaking to me as I consume literally the best thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of putting into my mouth: the first, that he has a tendency to either refer to himself in the third person or refer to the whole town as a singular, hive minded unit; the second, that he affected what I knew as the stereotypical Texan accent when he joked around with me. In my speculation I manage to finish the entire plate standing up and he emits a low whistle.

“Hey, hey, it’s not gonna run away from you! Do you want more?” He seems impressed and flattered and I want to say yes but my politeness has caught up with me by this point, so I shake my head.

“I wouldn’t mind helping clean up, though,” I counteroffer, and he shrugs.

“I’m not gonna turn your so very generous offer down but you can help clean and still get more food, they aren’t mutually exclusive.” He turns to a cabinet and grabs two coffee cups. One of them is shaped like a 10 gallon hat and I wonder if he bought that ironically, unironically, or if it was gifted to him and he found it too comical to throw out.

Based on what I’ve seen of him, I’d wager it was the last one.

“Coffee?” He says, handing me the hat. He keeps the other one - a black and orange Harley Davidson cup that I’m sure he bought for himself - and pours a thick black liquid from the coffee pot into it. Is that stuff even drinkable? It looks and smells stronger than 3 AM diner coffee, and that’s an accomplishment in and of itself.

“I’ll, uh, pass. It makes me jittery.” Not a lie, but not really the truth. “You got any orange juice?”

“Check the fridge.”

Most people would just say yes or no, but it’s early and I’m not comfortable subjecting others to the way I’m used to having people act. There is indeed orange juice in the refrigerator, so I grab some and fill the cowboy hat halfway up and chug it down. I don’t know what was in that omelette, but it was spicy and the source of much thirst. A clock chimes somewhere - funny; Valdez doesn’t seem to be the type to have cuckoo clocks - and I listen for the time; twelve chimes. Ten in the morning. That means that in New York it’s eleven, and Piper’s at work… wait, no, it’s a weekend day. I can call. Or, I could call if I had something to call with.

Valdez is in the middle of haphazardly drinking coffee and cooking at the same time but it’s not like one more thing will distract him very much so I ask in the least bothersome way I can manage, “Is there a Walmart?”

I think he just rolled his eyes at me but it’s hard to tell because of his mess of curly hair.

“We aren’t a third world country, Grace, of course we have a Walmart. If you gimme a minute I can take you there.”

I want to tell him that it’s okay and I can manage to find my own way there, but that’s borderline ridiculousness. I don’t know this town and he does, even if I already feel pretty guilty about staying here. So I accept.

I’m a pretty patient person and I’m fully prepared to wait a while for him, but I swear I have never seen anyone eat as fast as he is right now.

When he finishes, I sheepishly say, “You didn’t have to hurry for my sake…” and he looks up in surprise.

“Who’s in a hurry?”

...I’d hate to see him in a hurry, come to think of it. I guess he’s just the kind of person that does everything at his own pace and his own pace is just a little bit higher than what I’m used to, even being from the city. He’s certainly something else. He’s gotta be superhuman.

We leave shortly after that, my head still spinning, and I take this opportunity to get better look at the town than I did yesterday. It’s not as small as I thought it was last night, after already remarking that I thought it would be smaller. It’s full of busy people, too. A pocket of modern civilization in the middle of nowhere. There are a lot of really great small shops, too, little Mom and Pop shops that I would probably look into if I wasn’t already completely broke, basically. There are a number of small, family-owned restaurants that look amazing, too. I really wish I’d waited to deactivate my cards.

It’s a shorter drive than I expect - this town’s size is just constantly fluctuating I swear - and he parks near the front. That’s actually really convenient. I turn to tell him I’ll be back soon, but he’s getting out, too. Once we get inside I find that I am eternally grateful for this small fact -- I’m completely lost as soon as I walk inside. The aisles are a mess and I have to wonder who organized this place. Why can’t all Walmarts look the same? Why is it necessary to confuse people from state to state? Geez.

I stick close to my tour guide and current savior as he expertly winds through the aisles without stopping. I can’t help but think that if I closed my eyes for longer than the length of time it would take to blink then I would lose him. He nods greetings to several people and introduces me to one of them in Spanish, and I catch the word mal and I am suddenly very curious about what he’s saying about me but I don’t ask and we move on. The electronics section is not in the back, where I’m used to it being; it’s in the back left corner. What is this place?

“I need to find something in the hardware section,” he says to me then, and I nod at him. “If you get lost, just wait here, or ask to borrow a phone.” He whips a sharpie out of a front pocket of his raggedy jeans and scribbles ten digits onto my left hand and without a further comment scrambles off.

I shake my head at this and wander off through the technology, wading through racks of DVDs and modern music and various gaming systems and finally find a row of iPhone products and accessories. There’s a wall charger with an accompanied USB charger and a car port for the low, low price of oh my god ten dollars this is ridiculous I only have fifteen but I really have no choice so I suck it up and buy it. I stand by the 5 dollar movie bin and wait for Leo to come back. If I move, I’ll surely be lost instantly. There’s an outlet on the floor for some reason, so I try to discreetly sit down and I plug my newly acquired device into the ground and the other end into my phone and in no time I’m booting up the device. I grin at the background; it’s a group selfie me and Piper took with our friends from New York, Percy and Annabeth. I go to unlock my phone -- 0701, my birthday -- and I have a few unread texts. Thalia, Percy, and Piper… nothing really important, just things about school (Thalia’s college students) work (Piper’s kindergartners) or that giant blue cake at the bakery we like a lot (Percy’s obsession with blue food). I add Leo’s number to my phone, text to tell him I’m waiting, and then I call Piper.

I wait for the call to connect and then it rings. Once… twice… it rings and rings and rings until finally it puts me through to her voice mail.

“Hi! You’ve reached Piper’s cell phone. Sorry I couldn’t answer; I’m probably being torn apart by small children. Just leave a message after the tone and I’ll get back to you when I can. Thanks!” There’s the beep and I start to speak.

“Hey, it’s me; just letting you know that it might take me longer to get there than I thought. I broke down in Texas. I’ll call you later, okay? Love you, talk to you later.”

I hang up and look at my phone for a minute. I guess she’s busy right now; she’s always doing something. She’ll probably call me back as soon as she finishes. In the mean time, I answer my unread texts.

Thalia sent me a text ranting about this rude kid that thought her class was a joke, and then another text about the guy that asked him to leave. I smile; things like that happen when you teach a Gender Studies class. You’re bound to get people that don’t take things seriously, but you have to take your lumps sometimes.

Percy sent me five pictures of blue layered cakes (three of them were the same cake from different angles) and talked about a band he and Annabeth went to see. I made a mental note to check them out.

Piper sent me a selfie of her face finger painted, apparently, by her class. They’d made her look like a cat. It was cute; she’s going to kill me for it, probably, but I set it as her new picture in my contacts.

After that, I just lean against the back of this music stand and close my eyes. The noise of the people around me is comforting in a way I don’t understand; sitting in the center of a strange Walmart full of strangers in a strange town. It was nice, in a weird way. As I finally reach this stage of self-actualization on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, my phone rings.

You’ve got something I need; in this world full of people, there’s one killing me, and if we only die once, I wanna die with you.

It’s Piper; that was a little faster than I expected. I answer it quickly.

“Hello?”

“Hey -- it’s me, sorry I missed your call!”

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“That’d be funnier if you weren’t the one who called me first.” I can practically hear her smile on the other end. God, I wish I could see it; Piper has the most amazing smile in the world. “Anyway, I didn’t answer because I was a very intense game of Twister.”

“Did you win?” She has the flexibility of a dancer; asking is a formality. She always wins.

“Actually, no.” I can imagine her making a face with that sentence. She’s always been very competitive. “We were playing that version of Twister where you have colored paint on the spots, and I slid in the blue paint.”

“You okay?” I don’t mean to sound alarmed, but it comes out like that. She used to get injured a lot in the past due to dance or sports, so I’m worried. She laughs, though.

“I’m fine; I was a little more worried about Bianca, though; I kind of fell on her.”

There’s a loud crash on the other end of the line, and I hear Piper’s voice, muffled, ask, “Hey, you guys okay?”

“What happened?”

“Oh, Percy and Annabeth fell over. They’re both fine and absolutely covered in paint, it’s hilarious, you’ve gotta see it; I’ll get a picture in a second. What was that about being broken down in Texas?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I mean, it’s something; the car broke down. It’s getting fixed by this mechanic. In the interim I’m staying in this little town. It’s fine.”

“Jason, what did you do to my car?” She sounded mock-concerned, or maybe really concerned; it was hard to tell over the sounds of laughter and loud accusations of “You did that on purpose, Percy!” and “This shirt’s going to be green forever.”

“Your car is fine. It’s just more of a sprinter than a cross-country vehicle, you know?”

“Sorry,” She says apologetically. “Where are you staying? You deactivated all your cards before I left, so… Please tell me you’re not living in a box.”

“Yeah, actually, and it’s great. No, of course not; I’m staying with the mechanic who’s fixing Agnes.”

“Oh?” I can hear the eyebrows raise in her voice and I roll my eyes. I know what’s coming next. “Should I be worried you’re going to have an affair?”

“No, I don’t think he’ll threaten our relationship, you have nothing to be worried about.”

“Jason, you should be more open-minded. Anything could happen, even something you never imagined.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be encouraging me to do something like this, Pipes.”

“Something like what?”

I look up from my perch on the floor to see Valdez standing there, an inquisitive expression on his face. There’s a can of something car related and unreadable in one of his hands, and he has a bag full of something. I unplug my new phone charger from the random floor outlet and stand up.

“N-nothing,” I tell him, and then say to Piper, “Listen, I’ve got to go; win the next game for me, okay?”

“Sure thing. Nico is going down. Talk to you later!”

I smile at the phone after she hangs up. I can’t wait to get back to New York and her. Valdez gives me a grin.

“So I see you fixed your problem.”

“Yeah, but I still need more battery. It’s only at 12 percent; at this rate it’ll just die again.” Unless I put it in airplane mode, but I hate doing that. I can probably charge it in his car, so I shrug and change the subject. “So what’s in the bag?”

“You’ll find out later.” He winks. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” I hold up the newly acquired car accessories.

“Alright, then; let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

After we went up front and he payed for his things (he asked me to grab him an Amp drink that he’d forgotten to grab, but I think he just didn’t want me to see what was in the bag), we leave. I was almost getting used to the coolness of the supercenter, so when I walk outside I’m hit by the heat like a train. It’s dry and I don’t know if I was thirsty before but I am now. We get into the car and I immediately plug in my phone, not asking permission. He nods at me as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“When do I get to find out what’s in the bag?” I say as my phone buzzes with a text message. I’ll look at it later, after my phone charges a little bit. It can wait.

“No por mucho madrugar amanece mas temprano,” He replies. I think I caught mucho… mucho means much, right? Right?

“Um…”

“Patience is a virtue.”

“Why didn’t you just say that in English?”

“It sounds better in Spanish. I gave you the short and simple version in English.”

“So what does it actually mean?”

“Getting up earlier won’t make the sun rise any faster, basically.”

It kind of did sound better in Spanish, and I wonder what it would literally translate to in English if that was only the basics of it. In any case it doesn’t look like I’m going to find out what’s in that bag any time soon so I settle for leaning my head against the window and continuing my watch of the town. The buildings are pastel colors, and they’re faded but still beautiful, in a timeless way. Probably still not a place I’d love to be caught after dark. I’m sure “faded” and “timeless” would easily become “ghostly” and “frozen in time” really fast, considering I can barely watch horror movies most of the time.

I don’t realize that I have managed to doze off until Valdez is shaking my shoulder lightly and speaking somewhat loudly.

“Any other errands you need to run?”

“No,” I mumble into the glass before sitting up. I wipe my hand across my face; gross, it seems that I drooled a little in my sleep.

“Good, because we’re already home and I’d hate to go back out now.” He grins at me and gets out of the car.

I roll my eyes. I can’t believe I didn’t notice this before, but this guy is most definitely a huge dork. That makes me feel a little better about staying with him, I think as I make sure my face is drool-free.

There are other people here, now, in the shop and in the garage. The place is full of cars I either didn’t notice earlier or didn’t expect to see now, but it is an auto repair shop, so… We go inside and he spends a little time talking to people, like he’s a consulting mechanic. Which, I guess in this town, he probably is. While he’s doing whatever it is he’s doing (working probably), I remember that I got a message earlier. I pull out my phone casually and when I look, it’s the picture Piper promised me earlier. Percy has an arm around Annabeth, whose hair is splattered in red and green. Beside them is Nico, grinning. He’s surprisingly clear of paint, except for a few specks here and there. I guess he won. I wish I’d been there; I would have beaten all of them or broken a limb trying.

I wonder if I should wait for him or just go on up, but even then I’d still be waiting. It’s not like I have a key. At the same time, though, I feel and ‘s probably look like a lost puppy. I shove the charger into my pocket and flutter up to Leo, who’s discussing something with someone that I assume is a customer.

“Yeah, the problem is that your fuel cap is loose,” he explains with large gestures. “A loose fuel cap can lead to evaporation of gas, leading to a lower mileage. I can fix that. Here,” he adds to me, handing me his key ring. “The towing guys should be here soon and you can grab whatever you need and stick it upstairs, okay?”

“Why would I do that?” I don’t mean to sound affronted, but it comes out that way and he raises an eyebrow.

“So you aren’t stranded with no money and no supplies?”

“Aren’t you going to fix my car?”

He smiles wryly. “There’s no telling what’s wrong with it, or how much work I’ll be able to do on it today.”

“Preparing for the worst,” I say, and he nods. I can hear the sound of a presumably large vehicle pulling up outside, and he ducks his head to look out the window.

“That would be them. You’ve got this, right?” He doesn’t wait for my answer before he jumps right back into the fray, and I swallow. I don’t like talking to strangers if I can avoid it.

Fortunately for me, they just drop off the car (the trailer, too, but separately) and then they leave. First things first: I get in on the driver’s side, stick the key in, and try to start the car. It won’t start, no matter what I try. At the very least, it was worth a shot. I grab my CDs out of the car and make sure all of the doors are locked before I start on the trailer. I know what I need (shirts, toiletries, my sheet music and my guitar) but finding it in the small mountain of boxes, most of which are probably not even labeled. Fortunately the guitar is shaped like a guitar and my music is inside, so I grab that and lug it upstairs first. I fumble with the keys at first, not sure which one it is. I try all of them and the third one fits.

I must have been really tired last night, and this morning, because I neglected to notice that the apartment of one Leo Valdez was a huge mess. If I thought the downstairs shop was chaotic, up here was the end of the world. It looked like it could have been the setting for Category 7. I somehow hadn’t noticed the mountain of dishes just lying around: the left sink was full of pots and strainers; the coffee table was smothered in plates; there were bowls on the floor, which was kind of gross and in need of a good vacuuming or sweeping. Maybe instead of poking around underneath the hood of a strange car, I could clean for room and board. I made a note to mention that to Leo later. I clear blankets off the couch and set my guitar down before heading back downstairs.

Now begins the Great Box Hunt of the Century. I start with the left side, looking for boxes on the bottom, since the ones packed with clothes were probably the sturdiest. There’s a box near the front on top of a table with “Jace’s Clothes” scrawled hastily on the side in Piper’s handwriting. I grin; you can always count on Piper to come through for you, even when she’s not there. I pull the box out from under a box of movies and tear it open. I dig through it for a moment to make sure it isn’t just a box of winter clothing before I twist the flaps so it will stay closed. I hunt for a box of what Piper would refer to as ‘toiletries’ -- and, sure enough, there’s a box labelled with that. I smile again and grab the box before I head back, inside and up. I nearly trip on the last step -- or, the last step that I think should be there but isn’t. I catch myself and hit the wall, the top box threatening to fall off. I wait for a moment and then it steadies.

I don’t know if I’m supposed to go back downstairs and help him out or not, but I don’t really want to. It’s not like I’d be much use to him anyway. I enter and set my stuff down on a sort of clean spot on the floor and take a good long look at his apartment.

And then I clean it.

I find dish detergent that looks like it hasn’t been opened in a while under the sink and I set to work cleaning dishes - which takes less time than I thought it would but more time than I wanted to spend on it - and play music from my phone, leaving it plugged in a nearby outlet. It takes 1.5 Duran Duran albums before the dishwasher is on and running and everything else has been washed by hand, and I lean against the counter.

I’d say this work is worth staying at least for the night. I guess Leo got wrapped up in work, too; I haven’t seen him since I came up here. I shrug it off and squint around the apartment. I only grabbed what I found in the first room - the kitchen and living room combination - so there are probably more dishes elsewhere, but I don’t really want to go looking into other rooms. It’s not late at all, it isn’t even five yet, but I find myself actually tired. I sit on the couch for just a moment, just to sit for a second. It’s actually really comfortable… it’s a big comfy couch… I could just sit here forever…

-

I jolt awake at the sound of someone rustling around and I have to blink again before I know that I am still in Texas. I squint; the only light on in here is from the stove in the kitchen, but as I struggle to sit up (where did this blanket come from?) a lamp flickers on.

“Why is it so dark in here?” I mutter, looking around. Leo’s leaning against the wall by the door, arms crossed and covered in what’s probably car oil or something.

“I didn’t want to disturb your beauty sleep when I came in,” he explained, and grinned. “You didn’t have to clean the place, you know.”

“Sure I did,” I say, returning the smile. “It’s the least I can do. I’m no good with a wrench. What time is it?”

“It’s almost eight. You were out for a while, I guess.” He pauses and then adds, as an afterthought, “There’s food in the fridge and you can do whatever you want with it. The bathroom is at the end of the hall.”

“Thanks.” I realize then that I’m starving, and I get up hesitantly. I don’t know if he has more to say, but I suddenly remember the blanket, so I thank him for that, too. He grins.

“If you’re hungry right now there’s stuff in the microwave,” he says and I quietly thank the heavens. Of all the mechanics in the world, or even of all of the small town mechanics I could have run into in the Middle of Nowhere, Texas, he’s gotta be the nicest.

I heat up the food as he plops down in a chair, sighing about cars. He tells me he can start working on mine tomorrow and I mumble a thank you through a mouth full of potatoes. As I eat he plops down on the couch and flips the television on to MTV. I watch in disinterest as I eat and when I’m done I just leave the dishes in the sink. I don’t really feel like washing anything else right now and he seems satisfied with my work. I join him on the couch, huddling into the arm on the other end. The show is something I relate to that old America’s Funniest Home Videos show. He doesn’t really seem interested in it, though. His eyes are focused on the pile of my stuff in the corner.

“Hey, you play the guitar?” He turns to me, eyes lit up.

“Uh, yeah,” I say with a small grin. “Kind of. It’s just a hobby.”

“Play something.” He grins at me impishly. “I love guitar. Wait, what kind is it?”

“It’s acoustic.” I hesitate. “And, uh, I don’t know a lot of songs completely yet.”

“Can’t you play by ear?”

I shrug sheepishly.

“I don’t think it’s any good when I do that.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” he assures me, and I notice that he’s scooted closer somehow. There’s only a cushion’s space between us now.

“I can’t sing all that well either,” I continue, and he raises his eyebrows as he scoots a little nearer again.

“Dude, I heard you sing in the car. At the top of your lungs. You can sing all that well.”

“Thanks,” I reply, rubbing the back of my neck. I smile.“I guess, if you really want, I could try something?”

“Yes!” He says quickly, and then pauses. He screws his face up into. “Or, well, y’know. If you want. No pressure.”

He doesn’t seem like the type to think things through before he does them. I laugh a little.

“It’s fine. I did bring it up for a reason.” Though this wasn’t really the reason I had in mind.

I take it out of the case and just hold it for a moment, looking at the polished wood. I sit perched on the arm of the couch, sock covered feet resting on the couch cushion.

“Any requests?” I ask casually, adopting my I’m definitely cool and know what I’m doing persona.

“Can you do timber?”

I can’t tell if he’s joking or not, but he has one eyebrow raised, like a challenge.

“I don’t think that song was really meant for the guitar…”

“Sounds like something that someone who’s afraid to try new things would say.”

“The truth is,” I say dramatically, “I can’t rap. At all.”

He grins. “Yeah, I thought that might be the problem. Don’t worry, I’m here to rescue you from your rapless shame.”

I don’t mean to laugh, the snort just kind of escapes from me.

“You can rap?”

“I’m hurt that you would doubt my word,” he says, mock offended. “Just trust me, man.”

“Okay,” I shrug. “Whatever you say.”

I’ve never tried to play this song before, so I think for a moment about where to start. I strum a few chords experimentally. When I’ve got an idea of what to do, I look up and he’s waiting expectantly, tapping his fingers on his knee. I smile faintly and start with E minor and continue.

It doesn’t matter what he says about it; I don’t have a lot of confidence in my singing capabilities, so I sing softly, just loud enough to barely be heard over my strumming.

I watch the strings as I strum and I put my finger in the wrong place once or twice. I wince, but he doesn’t seem to notice. I lapse into the ohs and then strum silently, waiting for him. He flashes me a grin and then starts rapping and -- and I can’t strum anymore I’m laughing so hard oh my god he’s absolutely awful at this. I have to stop as I descend into laughter.

“You said you could rap!” I force out, and he grins.

“I didn’t say I could rap well, did I? I just wanted to hear you sing it.” He shrugs at me and I finally stop laughing.

“Okay, well, there you go. I sang Timber.” I yawn with dramatic effect. “Anything else?” I actually want to play now, so I’m glad when Leo nods emphatically.

“Yeah, totally, but if it makes you feel better, I don’t care what you play.” He flashes me another grin and then shakes his head quickly before adding,”I mean, I care, but like, play what you want to play. Play something you know.”

I smile in my gratitude and immediately start plucking the strings. There’s a band I like, a folk band called Mumford and Sons, and I’m not even the slightest bit ashamed to say that I’ve learned almost all of their songs. The one I play now is from their first album, and it’s Winter Winds. I’m not as worried about my voice anymore, so I just sing unabashedly and before I know it I’m done and he’s looking at me with a crazy grin on his face.

I can feel the tips of my ears warming, the way they always do when I’m embarassed, and I awkwardly say, “Well?”

His toothy grin accompanies his overly loud clapping.

“That was amazing. You were holding out on me the first time, weren’t you, Grace?” He raises both eyebrows and they all but disappear into his mess of curly hair.

“Why don’t you just call me Jason?” I ask in lieu of an answer, grinning right back. I don’t think I’m going to mind staying here a little longer after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just so you know, i'm not going to go day by day by day for the whole thing cause gods that would be tedious  
> but ///


End file.
